Scars She Carries, Love She Deserves
Lila pressed her face to the glass, giggling at the display of books and paper cranes hanging from fishing line like tiny messengers of hope.
“You okay?” Jack asked softly.
Elena nodded, though her heart beat like a drum in her chest. “Yeah. I just... I still remember when I couldn’t even say the word ‘survivor’ out loud.”
“You don’t have to say it,” Jack said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re living it.”
Inside, a small crowd had already begun to gather. Chairs had been set up in neat rows, and a table at the front was stacked with copies of her book. There was a pitcher of lemon water, a tray of cookies, and a nervous-looking bookseller smoothing out the event sign.